


promises kept, broken

by hesperia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesperia/pseuds/hesperia





	promises kept, broken

"Theon Greyjoy!" 

Catelyn Stark's voice rang out clear and true across the yard. Theon looked at Robb, they both knew that tone well. It was the same tone when she caught Bran running along the eaves, the same tone she used when Arya came to dinner wearing more dirt than clothing. Theon dropped the wooden practice sword and straightend his doublet as he looked up at her from where she stood on the covered bridge. 

"Yes, Lady Stark?" he asked, trying to appear as innocent as he could muster, but he couldn't helping smiling. 

"In my solar. Now." She wasn't smiling when she turned and headed toward the Great Keep. 

Theon and Robb began collecting the wooden swords, walking over to where Ser Roderick was standing. "Who was it this time, Greyjoy?" Ser Roderick asked, sarcastically. "The miller's daughter or the baker's?" 

Theon grinned, "Both!" 

He left Robb laughing in the yard and headed into the keep, up the twisting stone steps to Lady Catelyn's solar. Usually it was Lord Eddard that dealt with Theon's indiscretions. He'd give the boy a hard look, but it would only last a minute or two. He'd pat him on the shoulder, tell him he understood what it was like to be a man of his age, but he'd better be careful. The last thing Lord Eddard wanted was Greyjoy bastards all over Winterfell. 

While Theon couldn't really picture the stern and solemn Lord of Winterfell really understanding about what it was like to be a man of Theon's age with those kind of needs, he'd appreciated the lack of discipline all the same. But Lady Catelyn was a different story. Lady Catelyn would be appalled at his behaviour, and she'd chastize him accordingly. At least that was what Theon was hoping, because to him, she was never more beautiful when she was angry; her blue eyes firey, the flush on her cheeks almost as red as her hair.

She was standing in the solar, her arms crossed, when Theon entered, and she turned to look at him. "I suppose you know why you're here?" Catelyn asked, looking at him expectantly. 

"I have an inkling...or two," he said, unable to wipe the smirk from his face. 

"Those girls are someone's daughters, Theon. They are not whores who you can take when and where you like. They do not know better, and you should."

He opened his mouth to argue that point but Catelyn held up her hand. "I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth on the subject." 

Catelyn picked up a book from the table and sat down, opening up to where it was bookmarked. 

"Aren't you going to punish me?" Theon asked, looking at her incredulously, though he hoped she couldn't tell. 

Catelyn put her fingers between the two pages and looked up at him. "You're a little old to be punished. What does Lord Eddard do when this kind of thing happens?" 

Theon paused, he couldn't very well tell her that her lord husband gave him a stern look and let him go on his way. He watched Catelyn, tapping the booking lightly on her palm as she waited for him to respond. "A good beating, to make me remember." 

Catelyn raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?" 

"Quite. Sometimes I can't sit down for a good hour." 

Catelyn sighed, and Theon thought she might just tell him to leave, but she pushed her chair away slightly from the table. "Come over here." 

He went slowly, playing up his hesitation, not wanting to appear overly eager to whatever sort of punishment Catelyn had in mind. "Yes, Lady Catelyn?"

"Stand here," she said, motioning to one side of her chair. "Put your hands on the table." 

Theon's chest tightened. She wasn't really considering this, was she? He hesitated, in truth this time, and Catelyn looked up at him with a stern look that emulated her husband. Theon leaned across her lap, resting his hands on the table, his feet staying where they were, his ass pushed up obscenely in front of her. 

The first thwack of the book surprised him, sending the slightest tingle of pain along his skin. The second one came quick after it, slightly harder than the last time and Theon felt his cock swell with blood as the pain of the book against his bottom translated into something much sweeter in his brain. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder to watch Lady Catelyn as she swung back, hand and the book falling hard across his muscles. 

Theon couldn't hold it in this time, and he let a groan slip out. If she wasn't paying attention perhaps it could go unnoticed by Lady Catelyn. The force with which she hit him for a fourth time confirmed that Theon knew she had begun to understand what it was doing to him. 

His cock was achingly hard in his pants, and he wanted so badly to rub the heel of his palm over it, squeeze it, relieve some of the immediate pressure, if not the rest of it, but he didn't dare touch himself, not in her presence. 

The book came down against him, again and again, and Theon could hear Lady Catelyn's breathing as she spanked him. His breath matched her own, each ragged inhale mirroring the other. He ducked his head against his arm, trying to focus himself, pushing his mind to think of something, anything, but he couldn't, and it was the final smack that brought Theon well past the edge of madness, his cock spurting thick and warm and wet into his breeches with his release. 

He continued to rest his hand on the table for a moment, catching his breath until he stood up, watching her face. "You may leave," she said, cooly, opening her book, her eyes never leaving the page. Theon nodded, and left her solar, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His breeches were ruined, and he made his way quickly toward his own chambers. He didn't want to have to explain this to anyone. He wasn't sure he'd be able to.

*

Catelyn sat on the end of her bed, brushing out her hair. She missed Ned, he'd been gone three moons now, leaving her bed cold and empty. She sighed, and put the brush down on the table. Pulling back the furs she was about to get into bed when there was a knock on her door. She frowned, praying silently to the Seven that it was not Maester Luwin with bad news. She was surprised to find Theon standing at the door. 

He was in a pair of breeches and a soft spun shirt, the neckline open. His face was flushed, his hair tousled as if he'd been in bed. It was his eyes that gave him away, his pupils so large and wide that there was barely any color to them. Catelyn felt something rise up inside her, and she pushed it back down, pulling her bed gown tighter around her. 

"Theon...what are you doing out here?" 

The young man swallowed hard, and he stared at her. Not angrily, for Catelyn could find not a trace of anger in his gaze. It was something else entirely, something animalistic, a hunger. 

"You know why," he whispered, and Catelyn's mind flashed to what had happened earlier that afternoon. She flushed at the thought of it, the way he'd sounded, the needy groans as she hit him with the book. It had taken her hours to come back to herself, to push the strange thrill of excitement she'd discovered back down into the places of her mind she dared not explore. 

But that thrill was back, stronger and more potent. "Did you do something bad, Theon?" Catelyn found herself asking, the words slipping easily off her tongue despite all the warnings in her head. 

He nodded, his hands at his sides, clenched. 

"What did you do, Theon?" 

"This," he responded, and stepped toward her, his hands on her face, his mouth pressing down upon hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Catelyn's hands smacked at his chest, and she ripped her mouth away from his. 

"Theon. No." Her voice was still a whisper, the door still open, and she heart pounded in her chest. Someone could walk by at any moment, could see this. He continued to run his hands along her, his mouth dropping to her neck, sucking on her skin, nipping lightly at her earlobe. 

"Tell me to stop," he breathed, his mouth a ghost along the shell of her ear. 

He reached behind him and closed the door with one hand, the other steady on her hip, walking her back towards the bed. Catelyn was still struggling against him, trying to push out of his grasp, away from the hot wet slick of his mouth on her skin. Her back hit the bed with a small "umph" and Theon's arm was coming up under her bottom, lifting her onto the bed, laying her down onto the feather mattress. 

Her bed gown had fallen open, her breasts exposed to him and the cool air. She tried to cover her breasts with her arms, pulling the gown around her but his hands slid up her arms, cirling her wrists as he moved her arms above her head, pinning her to the mattress. 

He dipped his head, his eyes still locked with hers, and ran the flat of his tongue over her nipple. Catelyn's breath left her then, and she felt herself give way beneath him, the white hot arc of pleasure shooting through her as he continued to lick at her nipple. He let one of her arms go to cup her breast in his hand, squeezing it roughly, kneading it as he took her breast into his mouth, suckling like a babe at her nipple. 

Catelyn's free hand found Theon's head, her fingers sliding over thick dark hair, a stark contrast against the pale skin of her bosom. She curled her fingers into his hair with both hands then, as he let go of her other wrist, his hands now groping both of her breasts, his face buried between them. 

His knee was between her thighs, pushing up against the heat between her legs, and Catelyn couldn't help the soft, small moan that escaped her lips. Theon stopped his movements against her breasts and looked up at her, wild eyed. 

He pushed himself up, capturing her mouth again with his, licking into it obscenely, his teeth catching on her bottom lip. His hand pulled down her small clothes, long, thick fingers parting her lips to find her unimaginably wet. He worked on her furiously, rubbing and thrusting, curling inwards to make her moan again, despite Catelyn's best efforts to restrain herself. It was becoming more and more difficult to do so, it was wrong, she knew, to bring such dishonor to her marriage, but he was so young and virile, so needy in his want for her that Catelyn can't seem to do anything but give in to it. 

Her release was close, she could feel it bubbling just below the surface, and she dragged his hand up her sex, pressing his fingers to her nub. "Right there," she breathed, letting her hand fall away as he began to move his fingers over her. Circling over her with enough pressure, Theon's fingers brought forward Catelyn's climax, and she cried out, her hand over her mouth to stifle the noise as she bucked and writhed beneath him, pulsing against his fingers. 

When it was over, when she'd come back to herself, Catelyn looked over at Theon, his face and neck were flushed, and he sucked his fingers into his mouth, one at a time, watching her as he did it, taunting her. Sitting up, she reached for her hairbrush. 

"Turn over," she said, and he was willing to comply, crawling onto his hands and knees in the middle of the bed. She reached around and pulled roughly on the laces of his breeches, her hand grazing over the thick bulge of his cock. He groaned, pushing his hips down against her hand but she drew it away, fingers curling around the material to pull his breeches down over his bottom until they bunched at his knees. 

His cock was long and thick, and stood out straight from his body. Catelyn's ran her hand over the smooth expanse of Theon's bottom, caressing him softly for a moment. In her other hand she gripped the hand of the hairbrush tightly, and brought it down hard against his skin. Theon groaned loudly, and Catelyn saw the once pale skin flush red in the shape of her brush. She brought the brush down over his bottom, again and again, four times at least, and every time Theon groaned more and more. 

His cock head was slick, and Catelyn reached under his to wrap her hand around his cock, her thumb sliding over the slit. Theon thrust his hips against her hand, and she let him, slowly pumping her hand up and down his cock as he fucked into her fist. She brought the brush down onto his bottom again, surprising him, and he let out a strangled sob, his cock throbbing in her grasp as he spent himself, thick and warm over her fingers and onto the furs on her bed. His bottom was bright red now, and Theon collapsed onto his side, his chest heaving, his breeches still bunched around his knees. 

"Do you promise to behave?" Catelyn asked, reaching over to push his hair out of his face, her eyes locking with his. Theon nodded, his mouth still open and breathing hard, but he grinned, and Catelyn knew he was lying.


End file.
